08-14-2019, 03:51 AM
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if you asked carter montgomery if she believed in god, you might receive a blank stare, a long moment of silence, then witness a feeble shrug of her shoulders, hear her mumble [color=#C591A5]❝probably❞ under her breath. she'd been raised by doctors, by people of science. she, herself, hadn't been spared from years of textbooks and charts and all the other dreadful things that came with education. but believing in science didn't mean not believing in god. her parents, though never devout, were certainly believers.
the truth was, after twenty-nine years of living, carter hadn't ever seen evidence. she wasn't searching for proof of a god, she didn't look for men walking on water and turning water into booze. rather, she searched for proof that there was someone beyond this plane of existence who hadn't given up on them all. twenty-nine years, and so far, she hadn't found anything.
and yet, carter found herself seated in a booth. the wood behind her back, beneath her thighs, was well worn but still sturdy. the church the booth resided in was in good condition, all things considered. a little worn, a little weathered, but it stood strong and someone had kept the place clean enough. bibles, the pages flimsy and yellowed from time, were all about. some had been vandalized, pages torn out and crumbled on the floor, but others had been respected. names were jotted inside of many, and whether they were the names of previous owners, or the names of those someone was praying for, it wasn't clear.
but carter sat there, a book open on her lap, staring down at one of the aged pages, a mixture of emotions on her features that left them impossible to read. highlighted on the page, done long before, and underlined, was one verse in particular. [color=#C591A5]❝do not murder,❞ she read aloud, her voice hardly above a whisper, but carrying through the empty building in the silence, [color=#C591A5]❝and anyone who murders will be subject to judgement. matthew, nineteen-eighteen.❞ she let out a long breath of air, staring down at them for a moment in the silence, before her gaze shifted upwards, focusing on the statue in the front of the building, which had seen better days, and slumped a bit in her seat, as though whithering beneath the weight of it. [color=#C591A5]❝damn, man, i'm thinking i might be too hard of a case for saint jude thaddeus.❞ she murmured, head craning backwards in a tired bit of defeat.
( idk what this is really, but uh, it's? something? )
if you asked carter montgomery if she believed in god, you might receive a blank stare, a long moment of silence, then witness a feeble shrug of her shoulders, hear her mumble [color=#C591A5]❝probably❞ under her breath. she'd been raised by doctors, by people of science. she, herself, hadn't been spared from years of textbooks and charts and all the other dreadful things that came with education. but believing in science didn't mean not believing in god. her parents, though never devout, were certainly believers.
the truth was, after twenty-nine years of living, carter hadn't ever seen evidence. she wasn't searching for proof of a god, she didn't look for men walking on water and turning water into booze. rather, she searched for proof that there was someone beyond this plane of existence who hadn't given up on them all. twenty-nine years, and so far, she hadn't found anything.
and yet, carter found herself seated in a booth. the wood behind her back, beneath her thighs, was well worn but still sturdy. the church the booth resided in was in good condition, all things considered. a little worn, a little weathered, but it stood strong and someone had kept the place clean enough. bibles, the pages flimsy and yellowed from time, were all about. some had been vandalized, pages torn out and crumbled on the floor, but others had been respected. names were jotted inside of many, and whether they were the names of previous owners, or the names of those someone was praying for, it wasn't clear.
but carter sat there, a book open on her lap, staring down at one of the aged pages, a mixture of emotions on her features that left them impossible to read. highlighted on the page, done long before, and underlined, was one verse in particular. [color=#C591A5]❝do not murder,❞ she read aloud, her voice hardly above a whisper, but carrying through the empty building in the silence, [color=#C591A5]❝and anyone who murders will be subject to judgement. matthew, nineteen-eighteen.❞ she let out a long breath of air, staring down at them for a moment in the silence, before her gaze shifted upwards, focusing on the statue in the front of the building, which had seen better days, and slumped a bit in her seat, as though whithering beneath the weight of it. [color=#C591A5]❝damn, man, i'm thinking i might be too hard of a case for saint jude thaddeus.❞ she murmured, head craning backwards in a tired bit of defeat.
( idk what this is really, but uh, it's? something? )
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[color=#BCD8E4][shadow=black,left]a weekend on a boat in california
memes available upon request  van#5054